Between what is said and not meant, and what is meant and not said, most of love is lost. (Kahlil Gibran)
My grandmother died when she was almost
a decade younger than I am now,
old enough for us to trade places across the centuries…
If time could allow a trespasser to
break its borders. I recall how she spoke of hurts
while I remained mute. In those days
generations separated more than years,
free-speaking limited. Peers only.
My aunt put Grandma in her wheel chair.
She took her to the kitchen to wash her hair.
I crawled over the bed rails,
and lay next to the smells
of my grandmother’s presence.
The parts of her a stroke couldn’t steal.
terrypetersen 